


Medicine

by Hibanai



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Memory Loss, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibanai/pseuds/Hibanai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q disappears before his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrulQAZq7Y8 . Recommended that you listen to it while reading :).

Q tries to hide it, but Bond notices. Q is disintegrating.

He feels the way Q’s fingers quiver as he strokes Bond’s skin, sees the way they tremble as Q lifts a spoon to his lips, and the way Q stares at his hands as if they’ve betrayed him. He also sees the way Q pops little white pills in the afternoon when he thinks nobody is looking. He hears the rattle of capsules early in the morning when Q thinks he’s still asleep. Q doesn't say anything. Bond doesn't ask.

One day he comes home from a mission to find Q sitting amidst of wreckage: pillows torn to shreds, plates smashed, plaster cracked, and knuckles bleeding. 

“It was the inevitability of time. It’s not long until I’m being ignominiously hauled away to scrap,” Q whispers, his back to Bond. “You saw.” He accuses.

“I only see a bloody big git,” Bond replies stoically. 

“You know, the doctors told me that there’s something new, experimental. It’d give me back control of my muscles. At the cost of my mind. I guess you really did have a reason to avoid Medical all this time.” Bond sees the steady rise of Q’s shoulders as he takes a deep breath. He sees the shudders in Q’s hands, crumpled into fists.

“You could do everything with your voice alone. After all, I’m here for when you need the triggers to be pulled.”

Q lifts his head and turns to face Bond. He lifts his hands and unfurls his fingers, struggle written in his features. In his palms is a pen. “I decided to finally make this. I think it’ll be the last thing I ever make. It explodes.”

Bond bends down and kisses Q on the forehead before taking the pen. “Only one? I suppose I’ll never get to see it in action then. Thank you, Q.”

“You better not lose it.”

“I won’t. Let’s bandage up those hands then. Why did you have to hurt yourself Q? If you needed more things to break I would’ve brought home breakables with me.”

Q shakes his head. “They don’t hurt. I can hardly feel them anymore.” Q reaches for Bond and bumps Bond’s cheek with a hand. “I can’t feel it. Your warmth,” Q moves his hand until the fingers shake against Bond’s lips, “your smile.” 

Bond inches forward and presses his lips to Q’s and forces himself to smile. When he pulls away he says, “Not true.”

“I’m useless to MI6 now, you know. I’ve tried using voice commands and I’ve tried directing other people to do my work for me. My mind is faster than I can communicate, faster than my fingers can keep up with now.”

“That’s not true. You’re still brilliant. You can have other people create for you, even if it’s a little slower. Even handicapped, you’re better than anyone else.”

Q shakes his head sadly. “I’m going to take the experimental medicine. The odds that it’ll be detrimental to my mental health are low, while it’s almost guaranteed to…fix me. If this continues on I’ll be unable to even feed myself or function on a daily basis. I don’t want to burden you with that. I know you’d never leave me, you stubborn fool. I wish you would.”

Bond pulls Q into an embrace and Q crumples into him, small and delicate. “Don’t do this for me. It’s about you.”

“You think I want to become an invalid unable to wipe my own bum? Bond, you think far too highly of yourself. I'm doing it because it means I could still be what I want to, what I said I was when I met you: someone who could do more damage with a laptop, sitting in his pajamas before his first cup of Earl Grey, than you can do in a year in the field.”

[](http://s487.photobucket.com/user/oOLovelessOo/media/ss2013-08-19at103030.jpg.html)

Bond no longer wakes to the sound of clanking pills. The medicine has done its job. Q is strong, his muscles and nerves in perfect working order.

A month passes peacefully.

Bond returns home from yet another mission. This time there is no wreckage but Q, who throws himself at Bond, screaming and crying. “I love you. I love you James. I love you James Bond. I’m forgetting. I can’t-“

Bond kisses him into silence because he’s too terrified to hear whatever words are coming next. Q’s fingers dig into his arms, strong and feeling.

Q retires. Bond follows.

Bond is forced to watch as Q’s mind disintegrates, as his sparkling green eyes glaze over. It all happens far too quickly for them to do anything. It had crept upon them, let them believe they were safe, then scattered them to pieces impossible to pick up.

Q forgets all about MI6 and Bond thinks that’s all for the better. When Q forgets how to use the stove Bond finds comfort in the fact that Q was never good at cooking anyways. Then Q starts stumbling over Bond’s name. James becomes Jack, Jeffrey, John, Thames. This time his only comfort is that the hand resting atop his heart can feel his warmth, the steady beating, and, hopefully, his love for Q.

One day, he wakes to steady tapping. Q is at his old laptop, smiling. His fingers type, lightning quick and steady. Bond feels a burst of hope and rushes over. How it happened is irrelevant. Q is okay, Q won’t forget him anymore, Q is – 

The screen is dark.

Bond looks down at Q’s hands; his sure, steady hands that don’t shake or tremble as they fly over the keys, just as they used to.

They tap out gibberish.

Bond feels a stab in his heart. There are no miracles. It's not a second chance.

Q turns to look at him, sees the tears. “James? James? Why are you crying?” He asks, eyes wide and unknowing. He reaches up and gently, carefully, strokes Bond's cheek. 

This isn't his Q, whose eyes were always narrowed in secrets and suspicion, who didn't have a careful, gentle bone in his body.

Bond shakes his head, shakes the hand off. "It's just the medicine."


End file.
